The next morning the whole country was abuzz. The news of a rebellion was spreading fast. Rumors where everywhere, and fake news was common, but all had one thing in common: the supposed 'Heroes of Tristian' were nought but manipulating traitors.

Some nobles were already preparing for war…a war they felt that they would win easily. One man, specifically, was packing to head to Tarbes Village, the supposed beginning of the rebellion.


Poor Queen Henrietta was totally and utterly stressed out. She paced around her oversized bedroom, constantly rereading a letter signed by Louise. Said letter was short and simple, "we're sorry…but you did not provide enough action. It is a necessary evil that the people revolt."

Oh poor Louise, my only friend, why did you do this? Oh tough Johnson, why would you do this as well?


Baron Alexandre Faucheux lead his one hundred men to the gates of Tarbes. Only one hundred was needed, for what could a bunch of weak, untrained peasants do? In fact, he might have gone a little overboard on the number of men, but he did not care.

The first signs that they were near Tarbes was the smell of smoke. Naturally, the Baron assumed that it was just the commoners' chimneys.

The second signs totally squashed the original assumptions, for the trees were burnt, and the farmlands and crops were all burned away and some were still on fire. The only thing left intact was a simple flag of fourty eight white stars on a blue background, and thirteen strips, half of them red, the other half white.

The Baron was flabbergasted. W-why these are scorched earth tactics!


Somewhere hidden in an unknown forest. Operation: REBEL-CONSTRUCTS, Objective(s): manufacture firearms and ammunition, introduce the automobile, train the rebels.


Within a day, the ancient fortress had been mostly repaired and fortified. Within, the clings of hammers against anvils followed the booming of muskets.

"Now then," the Yankee said, "this is why one of my proposed rifles is superior. Now you have to painfully measure out the gunpowder and yada yada. In that time, anyone could just come up and stab you. With mine, as you'll see, you have twenty shots before you gotta reload, and it only takes a couple of seconds."

"Yeah, but," an ex-musketeer explained, "how are we gonna get that many materials? I mean, we're all commoners, you're a duke but you ain't got any magic, and Madam Louise is the only mage here!"

"Simple, Louise, care to explain?"

"Uh, yeah," Louise responded, stepping forward, "I've talked with the Founder himself…"

"Heresy!"

"Shut up, it was the actual Brimir, now then, he told me that everyone has a magic affinity, so if that's the case, I could train some of you as earth mages!"

"I-I guess that makes sense…alright, Sergeant, you win this time."

Someone ran up to the sergeant. Said man was carrying a prototype Thompson Submachine-gun.

"Thanks, smithy, alright, now let me demonstrate."


Outskirts of Tristian City.


All the commoners silently stood in the town square, unmoving and refusing to work. The local duke's Musketeer Forces were trying to convince the people to work.

"Come on, ye ungrateful buggers! Move your asses already!"

In response, a couple spat at the musketeer's feet…this caused the others to start picking up sticks and stones and start tossing them at the soldiers.

After thirty minutes of this ill treatment, someone fired. All the soldiers fired their muskets at the commoners in response. Perhaps this would be persuasive to them to work.

It took several minutes for the smoke to clear, but when it did the scene was forever remembered. Three commoners lay dead, and many more were wounded. The rebellion had it's first martyrs.

The remaining townsfolk took a second to look at their downed comrades, before charging, unarmed, towards the smug musketeers. Said musketeers panicked at the sudden show of resistance, and were unable to unholster their flintlock pistols before being kicked or punched and having their weapons ripped from their hands.

That day, an entire musketeer battalion was killed.

One man thrusted his fist into the air yelling, "liberty or death!" Soon the cry echoed around the village as the newly turned rebels yelled their hearts out.

After an hour, the corpses of the musketeers had been completely stripped and beheaded, their heads were put onto poles thrust into the ground outside the village. Scrap weapons had been made and supplied to the men. Wagons were loaded, and the rebels evacuated the town after lighting one of the buildings on fire. They were hoping to join up with the main force.


After several hours of waiting, the Duke was bored. Where the fuck did those musketeers get too? Are they drunk?!

Riding his horse down to the village, he arrived within the hour, and the sight that greeted him was not pretty. Several buildings were on fire, the square was coated with blood, and some bodies still remained. The heads of his musketeers were impaled on poles, a clear warning for him.

He just stood there for several minutes, taking the scene in. H-how-w-why…WHAT?!

Only the soft click of a German Luger, and the feel of cold steel on the back of his head brought him back to reality.

The man with the gun spoke first, his voice oddly accented, "ugh, you're too lazy to go fix things out yourself? You absolutely have to waste the lives of your soldiers?"

"Who are you, and what gives you the right to hold me hostage?"

"Oh, tsk tsk, I wasn't holding you hostage! Nein, I'm planning to kill you."

"I uh-"

"As for who I am? Well, I'm too bored right now to give you a proper introduction…just know I'm the Phantom."

"Wait what-"

The air vibrated as the German's Luger went off

Shieße, I forgot how quickly revolutions get around.


"Hey, welcome back, Lou!"

She was once again in that cozy, fire lit room.

"LOU?!"

"Yeah yeah, your name is way too long for me. Besides, Lou is a nice name! Also, call me uh…uh…"

"Why am I here again?"

"Oh right, yeah yeah, I'm gonna teach you how to do the…earth mumbo jumbo."

"'Earth mumbo jumbo?'"

"Oh yeah, I don't know what to call it, I mean…as a certain Foundation would call it, magic is an 'anomaly,' something that exists, but yet shouldn't. Makes sense?"

"N-no-"

"Good! Now here's how to turn dirt into metal…"


Taken from a Tristianian newspaper, dated '29/1/1947'


Breaking News!

Two dukes killed in one week!

Rebellion! Rebellion! Rebellion!

Tristian City Massacre!

Yesterday at noon, a battalion of the Tristian City Musketeer Corps. fired upon a group of protesting commoners. Commoner casualties are unknown, but the attack resulted in the musketeers being killed and stripped of weapons and armor. The commoners were not at the scene when the local authorities discovered it. The body of Duke Charles de Jarque was discovered with the calling card of the Phantom. It is unknown if both are connected…


The winds were about to change, and everyone could sense it. The blood of men was about to be shed.